


Fireworks

by PengyChan



Series: Heaven and Earth [5]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/pseuds/PengyChan
Summary: Héctor couldn't remember a time without Ernesto by his side. Ernesto could, but just barely; what he remembered well were the fireworks, the music, and a small hand tugging at his sleeve.[He'd only wanted to see the fireworks.]





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> I got myself stuck with a longfic because of course I did, but I'm not done with this series yet.

The thing was, it hadn’t even been about music. All Ernesto had wanted was getting to watch the fireworks in San Luz; he’d heard so much about the firework displays for Cinco de Mayo and he’d always wished he could see them up close, but the response that year was the same as the one before, and the one before that. 

“Maybe next year, Tito,” his mother had said, ruffling his hair. “When your papá is better.”

That was about as good as telling him they would never be going, because his father was never going to get better. His leg was ruined for good after the accident in the mine, but that was only half of it: he just didn’t seem to do anything anymore but drink, complain, and make a point of never being happy with anything. 

That, and he no longer wanted to be anywhere near fireworks displays; he would  _ make  _ fireworks to sell, but that was it. He blamed the explosion in the mine for that, too. One time Ernesto set off a firecracker in the patio while he slept inside and he’d begun screaming like a madman that he was being crushed, that he couldn’t breathe, oh God above he couldn’t see  _ anything.  _

“Never do that again, Ernestito. Please,” his mother had told him later, tears in her voice, and Ernesto had promised. He’d never set off another firework anywhere near the house… but he still really,  _ really  _ wanted to see a display.

“We could go, just the two of us. Papá doesn’t need to come!” Ernesto pleaded, clinging to her gown and looking up, making sure to open his eyes up wide. That usually did the trick, but not that time. His mother just sighed.

“I am sorry, mijo, but I really can’t--”

“Then I can go on my own! I’ll take the horse!” Ernesto exclaimed, and was more than slightly offended by her laugh.

“Oh, dear! You’re still too young to go on your on, Tito.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re six.”

“And a half!” he protested, and for some reason that made her snicker even louder. 

“Oh, my apologies,” she said, smiling at him. “You’re practically a man now, aren’t you?”

He puffed out his chest. “Of course!”

“A big strong man, aren’t you?”

“Sure!” Ernesto grinned up at her, only to pause and frown when he realized she was no longer smiling at him: she was grinning right back, and reaching to take something from the table. “... Wait. Wait a sec--” he tried to backpedal, but the next moment she’d dropped a basket in his arm, causing him to stumble back.

“How lucky! A big strong man to help me with the chores while your papá is resting,” his mother exclaimed, sounding absolutely delighted, before going back to chopping… whatever she was chopping. “Go feed the chickens, dear.”

“But, mamá--!”

“Ah-ah, no complaining! Aren’t you a man now?”

“But--!”

“You’re six  _ and a half, _ aren’t you? Time to do some chores, muchacho.”

“But I--”

“Chickens. Feed. Now,” she added, and the tone of her voice was one he knew well. She didn’t use it very often because he was usually able to convince her if he looked cute enough, but when she did it could only mean one thing: that whatever she had said was final, and that arguing would be pointless. So Ernesto just huffed and turned to the door.

“I hate you,” he muttered, but she was already focusing on her task and all he got was an absent-minded hum.

“Close the door, Tito,” she said, and for a moment he was tempted to slam the door, loudly, so that his father would wake up and maybe freak out again. That would show them, but then it would get him in trouble, and he didn’t want that. He just wanted to see the fireworks, and he  _ would  _ \- good luck stopping him. He’d be well away before she realized he was gone.

Ernesto threw the food into the chickens’ pen - basket and all, she could have fun go get that back - and, after taking a moment to stick out his tongue at his house’s general direction, he ran off towards the town. There was no way he could take the horse without his mother noticing, but he could still find a way to get to San Luz.

He’d just jump at his first chance.

* * *

“Candy?”

“In the cart.”

“Fruit?”

“In the cart.”

“Toys?”

“Also in the cart.”

“Food for us?”

“Cart.”

“The crates?”

“Cart.”

“Héctor?”

“Car-- no, wait. Where’s Héctor?”

As he watched his papá twirling around - just his legs, really, that was all he could see from his hiding spot - Héctor had to press a hand on his mouth to muffle a snicker. His mother, however, made no effort to hide her laugh. He saw her shoes stepping in front of the cart.

“Oh my! I wonder where my little Teto may be! Has be been carried off by a coyote? Whatever shall I do?” she exclaimed, and Héctor had to fight even harder not to laugh. He was still a couple of months short of his third birthday, but even he knew that whenever his mother sounded  _ that  _ dramatic she was just joking. “Ay! If only I could see him one more time! I’d hold him tight and give him all the candy he can eat…”

Héctor was crawling out from under the cart the next moment, and launched himself at his mother’s grown. She let out a laugh and picked him up, covering his face in kisses. “Ah, here you are! I thought coyotes had stolen you away!”

“I’m too big,” Héctor said, and smiled at her. “Candy?”

That caused her to laugh. “Later. For now, the tightest hug will have to do,” she said, and ignored the ensuing protest to turn to his papá. “I think we’re good to go.”

“Good. The sooner we get all set up, the sooner we can start selling. And you don’t want to miss the celebrations, do you, muchacho?”

Héctor usually liked being in the back of the cart, but there was a bunch of merchandise on it now, covered by sheets of canvas and tarp, and he got to travel in the front, between his parents. A hopeful request to ride the horse pulling it was immediately shot down, and he didn’t protest  _ too _ much. He still wanted that candy, so he’d have to behave. For a while. 

As they began moving towards San Luz, none of them noticed the boy who snuck under the canvas on the back of the cart.

* * *

_ All right. I did it. Piece of cake. _

Throwing some more candy in his mouth - there was so much of it back there, they wouldn’t miss a few handfuls - Ernesto tried to get in a more comfortable position while lying on his stomach between a crate and a sack of… something. He had no idea what it was, but he’d found out in the worst way that it wasn’t something he could use as a cushion, so he’d have to just bear the hard wooden planks beneath him. And the jolts whenever the cart’s wheels passed over some hole in the road, and the heat because the sun was beating down on the canvas he was under and oh man, he was  _ already _ starting to sweat.

_ It doesn’t matter. It will be worth it.  _

He really hoped it would be, because once he returned home that night - he’d only need to catch another ride, easy-peasy - there would be hell to pay. His father probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone, but his mother would. She was gonna would ground him for a year or two or twenty, and his father may or may not beat him up real good. That depended on whether or not he would be sober enough to stand. But then again he had a lame leg and Ernesto could run fast, so he had fairly good chances of  _ not _ being turned black and blue.

_ Or I could make up a story. Say that I went fishing at the stream, and lost the fishing line, and kept looking for it until dark. They could even believe it, if I-- _

“Candy! Candy! Candy!”

“All right, all right. Get in the back and take some. Just  _ some, _ I said!”

_ Uh-oh. _

Ernesto pressed himself down on his stomach, but there was nowhere for him to hide and, a moment later, the child had crawled under the canvas, a tiny hand reaching into the sack of candy. For a moment Ernesto hoped against hope that he wouldn’t notice him, but of course that was dashed when the child looked up and paused, his gaze falling on him. He was a tiny thing with messy black hair and eyes that looked too big for his face, and they seemed even larger now that they were staring at him questioningly.

Trying not to panic, Ernesto reached to hold a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he whispered, and to his utter relief the child didn’t cry out: he just gave him a wide grin before he held up a tiny hand to his mouth to imitate him.

“Shhh,” he repeated, and retreated back to the front of the cart. Ernesto listened, holding his breath, as he babbled something to his parents that he couldn’t quite catch. Was he telling them about him? No, it sounded like he was asking for permission to do… something? Their voices were muffled and he couldn’t hear well enough.

“All right, all right,” he finally heard a man’s voice saying. “Sweat in there if you want, but if you fall off we won’t be turning the cart back for you!”

There was a shrill laugh, and the next moment the kid was crawling back under the canvas, over a couple of sacks, and came to rest on his stomach right in front of him, propping himself up on his elbows. He grinned at him - he was so small, Ernesto couldn’t remember ever being that small himself - and leaned forward to whisper. “I’m Héctor.”

There was something really funny about the conspiratorial tone he was using, and Ernesto had to hold back a laugh. “I’m Ernesto,” he whispered back.

“Neto?” the boy repeated, and Ernesto shrugged. It was close enough, anyway.

“Sure. Neto it is.”

“Why are you here?”

“It’s a secret. You must tell no one I’m here.”

Héctor bit his lower lip, and seemed to consider what he’d just been told very carefully before he nodded in an oddly solemn way, and he handed him a fistful of candy… to seal the deal, Ernesto guessed. Well, he wasn’t going to say no to that. Just one more piece of candy.

Just one more.

* * *

“... Well, this is not what I was expecting to find. I mean, I  _ was _ expecting Héctor to eat enough candy to burst. The stowaway is a surprise.”

“Oh, I know who this is! De la Cruzito! What are you doing here?”

“Uuugh…”

“Nnnnh…”

“How much candy did they have again?”

“Half the sack is empty. I am also rather sure it was  _ sweltering _ under that tarp.”

“Only half? They didn’t get to the lethal dose, then. All right, muchachos, I’ll get you two some water. Think you can stand up?”

All things considered, Héctor’s parents took his presence rather well. They let him sit in the shade while they set up their stand in the square, and gave both him and Héctor water to make up for the fact they had sweated out half their body weight during the journey. By the time they were done setting the stand, Ernesto was starting to feel a bit better and was actually enjoying looking around. 

There were people in soldiers’ costumes replaying scenes of the Battle of Puebla, there was a stage - with no band in sight, yet though - and a lot of small stands selling everything, from costumes to candy to food and drinks. It was busy, it was colorful, it was exciting, it was _ new. _

_ Oh yes. It was worth it. _

“Mamá says there will be fireworks,” Héctor informed him, and Ernesto grinned. 

“I know. That’s why I’m here,” he said, causing the child to blink. He looked especially funny now, because he’d thrown some water on his head to cool down and now his hair was sticking in all sort of different directions.

“Wasn’t it a secret?” he asked, stressing out the word ‘secret’ and looking around to make sure no one else was nearby to listen. Ernesto snickered, then shrugged. Not much point in keeping that up now that he’d been found. As it turned out, he wasn’t as sneaky as he’d thought he was.

“Nah, it’s all right. I can tell you,” he said in the end, and the child grinned widely at him.

“I won’t tell,” he whispered, and Ernesto laughed, reaching to ruffle his hair. He was starting to like that kid. 

“Thanks,” he said, and was about to add something else when he noticed Héctor’s mother approaching. She crouched in front of them and reached to stroke her son’s head, but it was Ernesto she spoke to.

“Feeling better?”

“Oh. Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for… you know... “

“Hiding away in our cart and eating half the candy?”

“Not half! Less! I ate half of the half!” Héctor piped in, looking extremely proud of himself, and Ernesto couldn’t hold back another snicker. Neither could his mother, really.

“Oh, my apologies. How could I ignore your deeds,” she said, and turned serious again. “Your parents have no idea you’re here, do they, Cruzito?”

The thought of lying did cross his mind, but really, it would be so obvious it wasn’t even worth trying. So he shook his head. “No. I really wanted to see the display, but mamá was busy and my father can’t hear the bangs.”

Héctor blinked. “Why? Is he… uhhh…” he frowned, clearly looking for a word he couldn’t quite remember, and eventually pointed at his ear. Ernesto shook his head.

“No, he’s not deaf. He’s a bore who doesn’t like anything,” he muttered, getting himself a sigh from Héctor’s mother. 

“Estebán had a terrible accident on the year you were born, Teto," she explained, and paused for a moment before turning back to Ernesto. She smiled a bit, and reached to smooth down a tuft of hair on his head that never, ever stayed in its proper place. “I know that doesn’t make him an easy man to live with.”

_ It would have been better if it had killed him, _ Ernesto thought, but he knew better than voicing such thoughts; a  _ lot _ of his thoughts were best left unsaid. In the end he just shrugged. “That won’t be a problem anymore. He’s gonna to kill me when I go back.”

That caused Héctor to look up at him, alarmed. “Huh? Why?”

“I wasn’t supposed to come here. When he finds out--”

“He won’t! I’ll tell him off!” Héctor declared, causing his mother to laugh.

“Ah, hear him roar.” She ruffled her son’s hair, causing him to giggle, before turning to Ernesto. “All right. We’ll think of something to tell your parents, if  _ you  _ promise to never again pull something like this. I won’t bail you out a second time,” she added, entirely unaware of the fact she’d bail him out  _ several _ times in the years to come, when Ernesto would spend more time in their household than he ever did  in his own. “Deal?”

Well. That sounded reasonable enough. “Deal,” Ernesto said. 

“Very well. I assume you didn’t come all the way here to sit here at the stall,” she said, and stood. “Go have a look around. Just don’t leave the square and be back after the firework displa--”

“Oh! OH! I wanna go too! Mamá! I wanna go!” Héctor exclaimed. He jumped off the crate he’d been sitting onto and clutched at Ernesto’s arm. “Please? I stay with him! All the time!”

Ernesto saw her hesitating before taking a look around. Everywhere in the square, groups of entirely unsupervised children were running around, yelling, playing, eating candy. She considered it for a moment, then looked down at him.

“Would that be all right?” she asked, and Ernesto nodded. Truth be told, he didn’t mind at all - especially if they did help him settle things with his parents. He put an arm around Héctor’s shoulders. 

“I won’t let him out of my sight for a moment,” he promised. And as it turned out it was not a problem at all, because little Héctor would hardly leave his side: he followed him everywhere, looked up to him, and hung to his every word. He was so easy to impress, too, it was almost ridiculous. Ernesto had no siblings nor he was likely to ever have any, but he supposed that was what having a little brother would be like.

He found he liked that.

* * *

“Fireworks? Fireworks!”

“No, not yet. I think there will be music first. Wait, let’s climb up…”

Héctor knew that he wasn’t  _ supposed _ to climb up the base of the statue in the middle of the square, but there were a lot of other children doing just that and besides he wouldn’t be able to see the stage at all if he didn’t climb up. So he said nothing, and let Ernesto pick him up… only to pretend to topple backwards a moment later.

“Ooof!”

“I’m not heavy!”

“Are too! Must be all the candy,” was the reply, and both laughed before Ernesto pushed him up on the base of the statue before climbing up himself. It was a bit of a tight fit with all the kids already on it, but they managed to squeeze in and sit. When Héctor peered down, the ground seemed impossibly far.

“Oye, don’t lean forward,” Ernesto muttered, putting a hand around his shoulders. “You’ll fall and break the pavement, and your parents would have to pay for the damage.”

Héctor wanted to protest again that he  _ wasn’t _ that heavy, but he did feel safer with Ernesto’s arm around his shoulders - he supposed that was what having a big brother felt like - so he said nothing. And even if he’d decided to speak, he wouldn’t have been heard anyway: the next moment a Mariachi band was on the stage at the far end of the square, and the public erupted into yells and applause. 

“Oh, look at that! I want a hat like that!” Ernesto was saying, causing Héctor to laugh at the mental image, because those hats looked huge even on grown men. Ernesto looked down at him, frowning. “Huh? What’s so funny?”

“You’d look like a mushroom!” Héctor exclaimed, almost yelling to be heard over all the noise, and let out a shriek when Ernesto rolled his eyes and poked his side. “Stop! It tickles!” he protested, earning himself a grin.

“Ooooh, so you’re ticklish? Thanks for letting me know, chamaco!”

“No! Stop!” Héctor squealed, trying to squirm away, but the scuffle was short-lived: a moment later the music started, and Héctor forgot everything else. They both did. 

He'd heard music before, of course. His mamá liked to sing, he had heard street musicians, and a few times he'd had fun banging pans and pots like drums, though that usually made his mother laugh rather than sing. But that was the first time he heard a real Mariachi band playing, and it took his breath away… for the first thirty seconds, anyway. Then everyone began to clap and sing along, including Ernesto, and so did he - or at least he tried to, because he didn’t know the words and couldn’t pronounce half of those he actually heard.

So he made up his own words, and he found he liked it a lot better that way.

* * *

When the fireworks came, lighting up the night sky, Ernesto couldn’t fully enjoy the sight.

It was great, it really was - the biggest display he had ever seen. But his mind was still reeling from the show, the way music had gotten everybody to sing along with the Mariachis. They looked so impressive in their fine clothing and hats and shiny new instruments, nothing like the few street musicians he had seen in the streets of Santa Cecilia, and Ernesto wondered what it must feel like, being on a stage and playing for so many people. He wondered what it was like to  _ be  _ them, so impressive that they could even outshine fireworks. 

He wanted to find out. He  _ would  _ find out.

“Neto! Look! Look!”

Héctor’s shrill brought him back to reality, and he looked up on time to see the sky turning green and blue and gold, the bangs booming through the square like thunder. Ernesto smiled, reached to grab the child’s sleeve - he was squirming so much, he risked falling off any moment if he wasn’t careful - and he began to just enjoy the firework display, all thoughts of the show pushed in the back of his mind.

For a time.

* * *

“... And that is how I  _ knew  _ I was going to be a musician.”

For a few moments, the two boys stared up at him without saying anything. Then they exchanged a glance, still saying nothing, and looked up at him. In the end, it was Felipe to break the silence… or at least Ernesto  _ guessed  _ it was Felipe. That was always hard to tell.

“That’s… great?” he said, hesitantly. “But I don’t think that’s what Imelda wanted you to tell us.”

Ernesto blinked. Truth be told, he had entirely forgotten what the point of the entire tale had been. “No?”

Óscar -  _ was  _ it Óscar? What the hell, may very well be - shook his head. He and his brother were sitting on an empty fruit crate, knees pulled up to their chests. “You were supposed to tell us how dangerous it is out there on the road,” he said.

“With the Revolution going on and all,” Felipe added.

“She wanted you to tell us how scary it was when the Huerta’s men got you.”

“And how we shouldn’t leave Santa Cecilia to go to the invention fair in San Tasco and show off out miniature leather-carving machine.”

Oh. Right. That.

Ernesto shrugged. “Then she should have picked Héctor to lecture you. I  _ really  _ have no idea what else she was expecting from me,” he said, causing the twins to snicker, and then grinned, leaning forward. “I say you should go for it. Show off your stuff! One day I’m going to be famous and it will all have been because I wanted to see a firework display. Wouldn’t have happened if I’d listened to adults telling me not to.”

Felipe turned to look at his brother. “He has a point.”

“A  _ compelling  _ point.”

“Imelda is gonna ground us for life.”

“She grounds us for life every week.”

“That’s  _ also  _ a compelling point.”

Ernesto shrugged, and stood from the fruit crate he’d been sitting on. “That’s the spirit, muchachos. I think old Marco is going to San Tasco himself,” he added, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “I’d go and ask for a lift before he leaves, if I were you. And remember, if your sister or Héctor or anybody else asks--”

“You  _ absolutely  _ told us not to go,” both boys finished, and Ernesto laughed, reaching to ruffle their hair with both hands. 

“Hah! Exactly. Well then, go forth and return victorious! Or… just return. Your sister  _ might  _ be slightly miffed if you get caught up in a civil war.”

“Might be better than facing her.”

“Ay, can’t argue with that,” Ernesto conceded, and was about to add something else, but the boys were off the next moment, certainly off to look for Marco and ask for a lift to San Tasco. Ernesto watched them go, distantly thinking that they had better not be caught up in something dangerous along the road - but really, what were the odds? It wasn't a long way at all - before he shrugged, and pushed the thought away. He paused for a moment to look down the road the twins had taken, where Santa Cecilia ended and the rest of Mexico - the rest of the _world_ \- began.

_ Someday, _ he thought, and went looking for Héctor so that they could start their daily practice, whistling to himself.


End file.
